


Pop Goes The Camera

by fictionalcandie



Series: Pop! 'verse [2]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Community: kradamadness, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalcandie/pseuds/fictionalcandie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Five mid-week lunches, two weekend sleep-overs, and one highly memorable trip to a club neither of them should have been seen at, and the tabloids were going crazy, their management had six almost-heartattacks and an aneurysm, and their fake relationship was born.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They broke seven publicists before they got to Kris.</em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Kris is a publicist working for Hollywood power couple Adam and Katy. Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pop Goes The Camera

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks go out to [duva](http://duva.dreamwidth.org) for the beta and encouragement. Title is from [the Adam Lambert song of the same name](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4w7_SYE7OA).

Nobody warned him.

Kris wants that understood; he took the job without realizing what he was getting into. _Nobody warned him_.

Before he started working for them, Kris thought, ‘Oh, representing Adam Lambert and Katy O’Connell, yeah, that should be a cakewalk. It’s gotta be a step up from CHEEKS Adult Entertainment Industries, at least.’

He was wrong, so incredibly wrong, and nobody warned him.

Adam and Katy are supposed to be the new and improved version of the Hollywood power couple, inseparable and devoted to each other. They’re supposed to be squeaky-clean, role models, people that all the little tweenie-boppers can look up to. They’re practically cookie-cutter Disney stock, for heaven’s sake.

Hah.

“Oh, my God,” says Kris, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not busy typing on his smartphone (Bluetooth is the _only_ reason Kris can keep up with his clients, okay, he freaking worships Bluetooth and hands-free headsets, he would send the inventor a fruit basket but he hasn’t got the time to until the beginning of next century), trying to stave off a migraine. “Are you serious right now, Tommy? Please tell me that you are not serious right now.”

“Sorry,” Tommy says lazily from the other end of the line, not sounding anything even remotely resembling apologetic.

“One of these days, I am going to kill your boss,” Kris mutters, and hangs up without saying goodbye.

He pulls up his Twitter feed on his phone, just to be absolutely certain he’s not being messed with — it’s happened before, because apparently that’s just the kind of thing that Tommy finds hysterically funny — and yes, there it is, Katy O’Connell just Tweeted a picture of her otherwise-naked chest and a lacy red push-up bra, including the tattoo she’s not supposed to even _have_ , and asked her followers if they think it would look better in black.

(The bra, not the tattoo.)

Kris hates his job.

He’s almost done composing the carefully worded _request_ for her to take it down (and maybe if they’re lucky no-one will have seen it, screen-capped it and posted it on ontd yet), when he sees _it_.

Adam Lambert has @replied Katy’s Victoria’s Secret cleavage picture saying red is more her color — but if she’s picking up anything for him she should remember that black is more flattering to his complexion.

Kris really hates his job.

One-handed, he deletes the gentle email to Katy, and instead types up a caps-lock heavy reminder to both his clients about what kind of image they’re paying him to project, and sends it off before he can think better of it.

He needs aspirin.

—

**from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 15:29  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
Relax, Conway. I didn’t forget about you.

Thong or bikini?

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **cc:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 15:37  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
Oooo, burn, Katy-kat.

(Thong. He’s definitely a thong kind of boy.)

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >, Katy < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 15:42  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
Katy, for the last time, YOUR BREASTS DO NOT BELONG ON THE INTERNET. Do not make me have this conversation with you again, please, God, there isn’t enough alcohol in the world. (Unless you _enjoy_ making Tommy field appalled calls from your mother, in which case... STILL DON’T DO IT.)

Adam, I have never owned a thong in my life and I’m not going to start now.

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **cc:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 15:44  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
I love it when he yells and shows he cares, don’t you? (Also — “never owned” isn’t the same thing as “never worn”, am I right? Get one for him in blue!!)

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **cc:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 15:55  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
Too late, already left VS. I’ll try and remember for next time if you don’t come with me.

Sephora next!! :-)

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >, Katy < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 15 January 2011 16:09  
 **subject:** Re: Do I actually have to TAKE AWAY YOUR PHONES?  
Please, one of you just fire me already. _Please_.

—

The job description itself is pretty standard, for Kris’s line of work.

It’s the things that aren’t _in_ the job description that make it so terrible.

Like how Adam Lambert is queerer than a three dollar bill. And Katy O’Connell harps like a fishwife when she’s unhappy.

And also—

“Oh, my _God_!”

“Shh!” hiss two voices, nearly in unison, and Kris uncovers his eyes to see that Adam and Katy are both glaring at him from their seats on the couch.

The giant plasma screen is still displaying the affront to civilized television.

Kris puts his hand back over his eyes. “I thought we had a deal!” (He can’t resist peeking through his fingers. Just to keep an eye on them.)

“No, you just whined a lot, and we made popcorn,” says Katy. She keeps glaring at him while Adam turns back to the show. “Hush, this is the best part.”

“You’ve _seen_ this _before_?”

Neither of them answer.

Kris groans. “Right. Well. I have the... thing... I prepared for you guys to look over. I’ll just leave it here on this table, okay? Okay. Bye!”

(Kris hates _Gossip Girl_ , too.)

—

Kris doesn’t know everything about how this farce started.

What he does know is that at some point, back during an impressionable youth, Adam signed a contract without bothering to read the fine print — and so, a few years later, found himself firmly and unwillingly in the closet. This Kris knows, because Adam never lets his management forget it, ever, and tends to bring it up every time they remind him that he cannot wear rhinestones on his eyelids.

Katy’s story is not quite the same — it involves a tendency to take inappropriate pictures of herself, and a fondness for risque clubs and suggestive dancing — but the resultant disapproval was still enough to strong-arm her into a fake relationship with her costar after the paps snapped one-too-many pictures of them spending time together.

Adam and Katy starred opposite each other in the geared-at-teens _Yet Another Cinderella Movie_ (known to Kris as _The Movie That Ruined My Life Even Though I Didn’t Know It Yet_ ), and had bonded over a mutual appreciation for the cute Southern PA’s backside — and frontside, actually — and membership to the same celebrity spas. Five mid-week lunches, two weekend sleep-overs, and one highly memorable trip to a club neither of them should have been seen at, and the tabloids were going crazy, their management had six almost-heartattacks and an aneurysm, and their fake relationship was born.

They broke seven publicists before they got to Kris.

—

Kris’s job would be confusing enough on its own, but dealing with Adam and Katy’s interactions with the press and the public aren’t the whole of it. He also has to deal with _them_ , sometimes, just them, on their own, in situations that have no real bearing on their public image.

For instance, Adam has made some kind of mission out of ‘relieving Kris’s stress’ — regardless of the fact he is the cause of a great deal of it. Kris knows Adam does this, because Adam told him so, back in July.

Right after that, he’d held out the joint again, with the puppy eyes that won over thousands of (mostly female) teenage hearts, and Kris’d sighed and took it.

It wasn’t his biggest mistake of the evening, but it _led_ to that.

Kris still remembers the biggest... mistake, and if he thinks about it closely enough, he remembers what it was like, having the feel of Adam’s dick at the back of his throat and the taste of Adam in his mouth, for the first time.

(Despite that he’s still emphatically not supposed to be, because his ass is grass if he gets caught, Adam seems to get high a lot more often after that.

Kris isn’t thinking about that.)

—

**katy**  
Isn’t it cute when people fall asleep halfway through a movie? ;-)  
 _20 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
The same movie.  
 _20 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
Three times.  
 _19 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
in a row!  
 _19 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
yes I mean you, @adam. :-)  
 _18 minutes ago_

—

 **adam**  
I can’t help it, @katy bb, my human pillow’s just too comfy. ;-)  
 _12 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
@adam aww sweet talk, bb. ILU.  
 _11 minutes ago_

—

 **adam**  
@katy ILU2  
 _10 minutes ago_

—

 **katy**  
@adam :-)  
 _9 minutes ago_

—

~~**tjratliffpa**  
… isn’t @adam heavy, @kallenpr? all that hair in your lap...  
 _8 minutes ago_~~

**Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!**

—

~~**adam**  
@katy, let’s not invite the kids to our movie nights anymore.  
 _8 minutes ago_~~

**Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!**

—

~~**adam**  
I mean, the squabbling kills the mood.  
 _7 minutes ago_~~

**Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!**

—

 **kallenpr**  
I am the king of all phones. Fear my wrath.  
 _5 minutes ago_

—

 **kallenpr**  
No, really. Fear it.  
 _5 minutes ago_

—

“No, I am not giving them back. Yes, I learned the evil eye on my mama’s knee. Shut up and watch your movie already.”

—

The thing is, Adam is hard to stay actively mad at. And Kris _likes_ him. Adam’s talented and clever and kind to pretty much everyone but the people who deserve to have him go Seriously Epic Bitch on them, which he usually does with a force and charisma that leaves Kris weak-kneed and in desperate need of something in his mouth. And that’s to say nothing of his stupid crinkly grin of genuine happiness when Kris accidentally gives him an unqualified and highly unnecessary compliment in the middle of a rant about how it’d probably be best if Adam didn’t actually do lewd things to Justin Timberlake’s ass with his hand, in front of red-carpet camera crews no less — or the ridiculous little seal clap that Adam unselfconsciously brings out every time Kris wears his tight jeans to work (and then resignedly turns around and bends over to pick up all eight billion of the pens and forks and various other miscellanea that Adam proceeds to drop throughout the day).

Plus, he plies Kris with mind-altering substances when Katy’s... Katy-ness gets to be too much.

Which is how Kris and Adam end up lying on the floor of Adam’s enormous bedroom, having deeply philosophical conversations at 2 in the morning on a Thursday. Or, well, less than philosophical conversations. Or…

Okay, at least they don’t spend _all_ their time making dick jokes, anyway.

“Is it Katy?” Adam asks, out of nowhere.

Kris blinks at him blearily. “Uh?” he says, eloquent after four beers.

“Why do you do this?” Adam says, then clarifies, “Put up with us.”

“It’s my job?” Kris stares at the ceiling for a moment, then shrugs. “You might not have realized this, given all that money you keep putting in my bank account every month, but I get paid for it.”

“Please,” scoffs Adam. “We’ve paid people before. _They_ haven’t stuck with us this long.”

“I’m scrappy,” says Kris, grinning.

Adam snorts. “No, really, is it Katy?”

Kris rolls over enough to get a look at Adam, to see he’s looking back. “Katy? What?”

“I mean,” says Adam, “she’s got super shiny hair, but you know she doesn’t do that herself, I’m—”

“I don’t really go for blondes,” says Kris, so amused he can’t resist giggling.

Adam looks a little confused. “You... why not?”

“Brunettes,” says Kris, “I like brunettes.”

“But.” Adam frowns deeply. “Her rack. Katy has amazing breasts. Is it her breasts?”

Kris snickers — because he’s bisexual, yes, but it’s fairly ridiculous at this point for Adam to be accusing a set of _boobs_ of having anything to do with Kris staying when it was most definitely not Katy’s pants Kris had his hand down two days ago, hadn’t been Katy holding Kris down and jacking him off slow, so excruciatingly, perfectly slow, until he’d been whimpering _AdamAdamplease_ and begging just to come already. “I prefer butts.”

Adam props himself up on his elbows and stares down at Kris, like he’s thinking hard about something. “But then... why _do_ you stay?”

The other thing about Adam is he’s kind of an idiot.

“Well. If I quit,” Kris says, carefully, “it means some other poor bastard’ll get stuck with my job, subjected to your collective crazy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kris squints up at him. “Wow. You actually sound indignant about that.”

Adam... Adam blushes.

Kris’s eyes widen. “Oh, please don’t tell me that you actually— that you really don’t recognize your dysfunction.”

“I have no dysfunction,” says Adam righteously.

“You do so,” Kris insists. He lifts an arm and waves one hand limply in Adam’s face, as accusing as he can manage. “You are, I mean, you’re _royally_ dysfunctional. You’re all about the dysfunction.”

“Am not!” says Adam.

“Are so!” says Kris.

“Not!”

“So!”

Adam narrows his eyes.

Kris smirks. “Are so,” he repeats, smugly.

Adam kisses him, probably to shut him up.

Kris should object. (Probably.) But Adam is a good kisser (definitely), and his hair is soft and thick under Kris’s fingers (how did they get there?), and his hand is big and warm on Kris’s neck, his body a solid, comfortable weight on Kris’s hips, between his legs and— Actually, objecting right this minute is unnecessary. And inadvisable. If he objected, Adam would stop and take away all that delicious friction, that nice hard cock rubbing at Kris’s where their pants have been pushed down, and that’s so, so necessary.

And anyway, fantastic orgasms aside — even Adam’s come on his skin, getting rubbed in with lazy, confident fingers as Adam works him hard again for _another_ round aside — Adam distracting him with sex means that Kris wins.

Kris likes winning.

—

Kris does not like clients who improvise when live on-air on nationally televised talk shows, being asked about their (fake-)relationship with his other client.

“Oh, we do everything together,” says Katy, her eyes wide and her expression guileless.

In the green room, Kris hears _including have make-out parties with my PA while drunk on mimosas on our patio at 9am on a Tuesday_ , even though she doesn’t actually go so far as to say that, and he tenses up.

Katy smiles. “It’s— He’s like my _soulmate_.”

Kris had not told her to say soulmate. Kris had told her to say ‘perfect match’ — because, if there is a God in Heaven and He’s any kind of just, then at some point in the future, Katy and Adam will get to be _themselves_ even in front of the press (though hopefully long after they’re Kris’s problem), and the more ridiculous and less open-to-interpretation they make their stories now, the more they’re going to look like flat-out bald-faced liars in future.

Does Katy care about things like that? Nooo, of course Katy doesn’t. That’s what Kris’s stress headaches are for.

“There is vodka in my future,” Kris mutters.

“What?” says one of the studio’s people, giving him a startled look.

“Nothing,” Kris says, and drops his eyes back to his Blackberry.

—

**katy**  
Bought new nail polish. Just the color of @adam’s eyes! ILU bb! :)  
 _2 hours ago_

—

 **adam**  
Driving  & listening to the radio: @katy, bb, they’re playing your song!  
 _seconds ago_

—

It takes Kris a couple of seconds, but when it registers, he looks up from his Blackberry to glare at Adam.

Since they’re at a stop light, Adam turns and smiles sunnily back at him. “Something on your mind?”

“They know your favorite station, Adam,” says Kris. He can already hear the speculation boiling on the internet. He could swear he feels the wailing of a thousand fangirls, feels it in his _bones_.

“Creepy,” says Adam.

Kris sighs. “You _told_ them. Several times. You also told them it’s the only one you listen to in the car.”

Adam blinks. “Oh. Right.” He pauses. “So what if they know?”“They will find out which song was playing when you tweeted that.”

“So?”

Kris looks pointedly at the radio, which is playing the end of ‘When I Grow Up’ by the Pussycat Dolls.

Adam follows his eyeline and grins.

Kris entertains a brief but explicit fantasy of beating sense into him with the steering wheel. He abandons it almost immediately as being impractical. “Not to _mention_ , you just confessed to texting while driving. Do I actually need to tell you how many groups out there are against that? Do I?”

“Well, technically the car wasn’t in motion...”

Kris sighs again.

—

“No,” says Kris, glaring.

“You can’t actually stop us,” says Adam. He straightens the line of his embellished leather jacket.

“ _No_ ,” Kris repeats. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Katy. This whole thing is her fault, since she’s the one who won this week’s Twitter contest (Kris isn’t sure how “I love your tight, tight jeans @adam!” is win-worthy, but he’s still getting over the “and your enormous penis” that he’s sure she wanted to add, and besides he’s never understood this game they play, anyway, so his opinion probably can’t be counted), and therefore was the one to pick this Friday Night’s Activity. “No kinky or seedy or rave-y or — Just. Absolutely no clubs.”

“But—” starts Katy.

“You have a movie coming out in two months,” says Kris. “A movie about— about the virtues of being wholesome! What kind of thing do you think it will say about you if you’re caught by the paparazzi in one of those hinky clubs you like just before that opens?”

Katy shrugs delicately. “That I’m a good actress?”

Kris raises his eyebrows. “No. Clubs.”

Adam and Katy exchange looks. Katy smiles.

“Okay,” she says.

—

Kris’s phone rings, and when he checks the display only to see _Brad — Code Orange_ (a holdover from his days with CHEEKS, okay, he’s maybe a little superstitious about the day he deletes that number being the day he actually needs a contact in the adult movie business, and that will be a dark, dark day indeed) he would be less suspicious if it weren’t only an hour after Adam and Katy escaped him.

“Hello?”

“It’s eleven o’clock in the City of Angels,” Brad trills. He sounds _delighted_. “Do you know where _your_ doe-eyed moneymakers are?”

Kris freezes.

“Brad,” he says slowly, “what do you know?”

Brad tells him.

Kris swears — “Fuck me sideways in a bucket!” — and hangs up on Brad’s laughter.

—

Adam and Katy are easy to spot, standing at the bar next to a pair of twinks who are busy trying to excavate each other’s tonsils with their tongues. Katy is looking gleeful and lining up shots in front of Adam.

They don’t notice Kris come up, so he wiggles between them and snatches the first shot out of Adam’s hand, downing it immediately.

“Hey!” Katy protests, but Adam is grinning.

“I swear,” says Kris, sputtering just a little from the rum, “it’s like I have to keep you on a _leash_.”

Adam raises his eyebrows. “What kind of leash?”

“You just said no clubs,” Katy says, and pouts at him. “You didn’t say no gay bars.”

“I should not have to _tell_ you no gay bars,” Kris snaps. He reaches for another shot, hesitates, then passes one to each of them. “Come on, let’s drink these, then I’m taking you two home.”

“Of course,” Adam stages-whispers to Katy, over Kris’s head, “because we have to finish the shots before we leave.”

Kris gives them both the stink-eye. “Wasting perfectly good alcohol is a temptation of the fates which I just _don’t_ need in my life, working for you guys,” he says darkly, and snatches himself a second shot from Katy’s line of seven. “Bottoms up.”

They drink.

—

Kris spends the ride back to Adam and Katy’s house being thankful they have a chauffeur who won’t go running to the press (for all their sakes) and a guest room (for his sake).

“Okay,” he says, once they’re situated in the den more or less comfortably, and all obviously a little buzzy, “I need to decide what to do about this.”

“I thought you said going to a gay bar wasn’t something we needed to make a statement about,” says Katy.

“It shouldn’t be.” Kris runs his hands through his hair. “But one of you is secretly gay, which means it _is_ something we need to make a statement about. Only we can’t, because then people will wonder why we had to. But we can’t just leave it alone or they’ll start to wonder why we’re not saying _anything_ and that’ll be just as bad...”

“So, basically, catch 22,” says Adam, from where he’s lounging on the sofa with his head in Katy’s lap, watching Kris pace. “How terrible.”

He doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s terrible. Kris ignores him.

“Unless...” Kris stops. “Oh. Oh, yes, that would work.”

“What would work?” asks Adam.

“Katy,” says Kris, ignoring Adam some more, “I need to borrow your PA.”

“What?” She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

“Because.” Kris waves a vague hand in the air, thinking furiously. “Just get him in here.”

Katy looks wary, but she pulls out her phone and starts texting. “There,” she says after a moment, leaning over Adam’s head to set her phone on the coffee table. “He’s on his way.”

—

“Tommy,” begins Kris. He resists the urge to rub his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Would you like to make some extra money?”

Tommy glares at him suspiciously. “How?”

“Tattling to the press,” Kris says with relish. “Well, the tabs, in this case, but still.”

Tommy glances to Katy. Kris can’t read anything in her smile, but Tommy must be able to, because he relaxes and shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

“Good. Good. Excellent.” Kris gives in and evil-hand-rubs. “Now, listen...”

—

**TIES IN THE LGBT COMMUNITY!**  
Celeb couple Adam Lambert and Katy O’Connell, spotted last Friday in WeHo’s popular bar _Top Hat_ , support their friends (according to a source close to the pair), even the gay ones.

“They’re very loyal,” the source confides, “and they don’t judge. No, I mean, really, they don’t judge.”

When asked about their recent appearance, the source says “It’s, like, a show of solidarity. Someone they’re very close with is gay. Flaming. Flamingly gay!” and adds, “Someone _very_ close to them. One might say, biologically close to them.”

It’s hard to misinterpret, but whose relative is in the closet? A cousin? A parent? One of O’Connell’s sisters (a pair of wholesome blonde Southern belles)? Lambert’s brother (the already outspoken advocate of the NOH8 campaign)? The source didn’t offer further clues, but never fear, readers, STARWeekly is on the case! We’ll keep you updated!  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, January 23–29 2011_

—

“You know what this means, right?” Katy says, tilting the magazine sideways like it’ll allow her to read the article better.

“Neil’s game with the ladies just took an unanticipated and wholly undeserved hit and he’s going to kill Kris?” Adam suggests, from the other sofa. “Painfully, messily, and possibly in public?”

“We have to go to more gay bars,” says Katy.

Adam’s expression brightens. “ _Really_?”

Across the room, Kris groans. He’d been hoping neither of them would notice that, at least not for a while yet.

Stupid of him, really.

—

**from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 05:12  
 **subject:** Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
Adam, please, if you value my sanity at all, tell me that you were not casing French jewelry stores. You are in Paris because you said you needed a vacation, not to get a ring and fake-propose to your fake-girlfriend!!  
/K

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 14:22  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
Wouldn’t “casing” imply robbery? Unlike certain other celebs I could mention, I don’t steal. Not even sparkly things. I promise.

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 05:29  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
Were you, or were you not, in several jewelry stores in Paris yesterday, looking at engagement rings for Katy?

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 14:30  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
Um.

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **To:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >>  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 05:33  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
… please. Tell me you didn’t actually buy a ring.

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 14:36  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
Well... I also bought some earrings for Katy?

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 05:39  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
I hate you. And my life. Mostly you.

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 05:42  
 **subject:** Adam + you + engagement = I quit  
If I find out you put him up to this, Katherine O’Connell, I will tell your mother that you’re pregnant with Tommy’s love child. These sorts of antics are not good for my blood pressure.  
/Kris

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 14:47  
 **subject:** Re: Adam + you + engagement = I quit  
You’re cute, Conway.

But don’t you dare lie to my mother.

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 14:52  
 **subject:** Re: Just saw the most fascinating article on TMZ...  
You have my solemn promise to never propose marriage to my girlfriend. Not even fake-propose fake-marriage to my fake-girlfriend.

(Katy says you’re threatening to real-quit. Again. Please don’t.)

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >, Katy < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >>  
 **date:** 13 February 2011 06:01  
 **subject:** I haven’t quit yet so you still have to do what I say  
Go to the Louvre, then a nice restaurant. ONLY the Louvre and a nice restaurant. Look affectionate but not like you’re going to elope. Do not make out with each other (OR anyone else!), but hold hands. Smile. Tip well. Then, for the love of all things holy, come back to LA where I can keep an eye on you. (Why I ever let you leave without me...)

I’m going to bed. I’d better not wake up to a scandal.  
/Kris

—

The ringing of his phone wakes Kris up at quarter to 8am. He checks the display, and groans.

_Evil1’s Assistant_

“What,” he says.

“Is there a reason,” says Tommy, “that my boss is making me sleep on the floor until we get home?”

Kris rolls over onto his back and groans. “What, isn’t there a couch?”

“It’s occupied. By eight bags of incomprehensible clothing from three designers, four hat boxes, and six pairs of Adam’s new shoes.” Tommy pauses. “ _Why_ am I sleeping on the couch or the floor?”

“Because Adam went ring shopping.”

Tommy manages a whole minute of thoughtful silence. Then, “Oh. Is that also why they’ve been holding hands like their lives depend on it for the past few hours? Literally.”

Kris sits up. Straight. “What?”

“They showered that way,” says Tommy, and now he sounds like he’s smirking.

“I need coffee,” says Kris.

He hangs up.

—

It’s coincidence — and the inability to leave well enough alone after reading Adam the riot act about French jewelry stores and appropriate times to visit them _[read: publicity nightmares, and never]_ — that has Kris alone in the house with Adam when Katy does the next horrible, no good, very bad thing.

—

 **katy**  
OMG bodyshots = MOST AMAZING THING EVER.  
 _20 minutes ago_

—

Kris stares at his Twitter feed for several minutes, hoping that maybe if he looks at the offending Tweet long enough it’ll stand up, apologize for making him hallucinate, and disappear on its own like it never existed.

It doesn’t.

“Adam,” he finally says, on the absurd and ludicrous hope that maybe Adam snuck out three hours ago while Kris wasn’t looking and maybe is at least in the same zip code as Katy.

“Hmm? Yeah?” comes the distracted reply.

Kris looks over and, yeah, Adam’s still there on the couch, painting his toenails emerald green with that polish Katy gave him yesterday after they got home.

“Shit,” says Kris, and considers going over and banging his head against the wall. A concussion probably wouldn’t help him any, though.

Adam lifts his head. “Hey,” he says. “Everything okay, Kris?”

“I’ve got— phone calls,” mutters Kris, and goes to barricade himself in the bathroom and call the one person he knows he can trust to tell him what to do in a situation like this.

—

“Brad,” Kris says, as soon as they get the hellos out of the way, “how do you make someone look like they’ve been having marathon, alcohol-saturated monkey sex?”

Brad hums thoughtfully. “What sort of someone?”

“A man someone.”

“What does this man someone look like?”

Kris hesitates. “Six-one. Well— well-built.”

“Attractive?” asks Brad.

“Yes,” Kris replies instantly. “Yes, very attractive.”

“Ah.” Brad hums again. “Well in that case, I’d say actually have marathon, alcohol-saturated monkey sex with him.”

Kris drops his head into his hands. “Of course you would.”

There’s a pause. Then Brad helpfully offers, “Do you need someone to have marathon, alcohol-saturated monkey sex with a six-one, well-built, very attractive man? Because I would be more than happy to—”

“ _No_ ,” spits Kris, “No, you absolutely may not have sex with him.”

“Oh,” Brad says, knowingly. “So it’s like that, is it? Well then, _you_ do it.”

Kris makes a strangled noise.

Brad laughs at him. “Who is this six-one, well-built, very attractive man you’re having sex wi— Oh. _Oh_ , oh my _god_ , Kristopher Allen, you little shit! You’re schtupping Adam Lam—”

“I am not!” Kris lies. Loudly.

“You so are,” says Brad, gleeful. “Oh, fuck, this is the best thing I’ve heard in months. I’m so proud of you!”

“This is why I don’t work for you anymore,” Kris says into his hands.

“No, you don’t work for me anymore because all my stars wanted to eat you up with a spoon,” Brad disagrees. Kris imagines that on the other end of the line, he’s actually clapping. “So, if you’re fucking Lambert—”

“I’m not!”

“—and you ever make a sex tape—”

“What?! We won’t!”

“—and want it ‘leaked’—”

Kris groans. “Jeeze, Brad.”

“—please consider leaking it to me rather than the internet.”

“ _If_ I were having sex with Adam Lambert,” says Kris, rubbing furiously at his face, “and _if_ we made a sex tape — which Adam will never, ever do with anyone ever or I will mount his balls on my mantle — but, okay, a sex tape, and then for some ridiculous reason we wanted to share it with the world... Even then, I would not give it to you, Brad.”

“Aw, darling, you wound me,” pouts Brad.

“I really don’t,” Kris mutters. “Why would I want to give you footage of me having sex? With my boss!”

“Come on,” says Brad, wheedling now, “I could make you guys rich.”

“He’s already rich,” says Kris.

“Famous?” Brad offers.

“He’s already famous,” says Kris.

Brad pauses. Kris wishes he didn’t know what Brad’s silence sounds like when he’s thinking.

“Is this an ego thing?” Brad asks. “Because I can make it look like he’s got a _gigantic_ dick if that’s—”

“He’s already got a gigantic di— _Brad_!”

Brad keeps squealing. “Oh, my actual God!”

“I hate you,” Kris says, groaning.

—

“Okay,” he announces, steeling himself as he reenters the living room, “take off your shirt.”

Adam stares at him and doesn’t move.

“Seriously, Adam, take off your shirt,” repeats Kris, putting his hands on his hips.

“... okay, I never thought I’d actually say this to you,” Adam says slowly, “but, Kris, I don’t think I feel comfortable with this.”

Kris rolls his eyes. “Relax, I’m not going to molest you.”

“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better,” says Adam. “The look on your face is kind of scary. Hot, but scary.”

“I just have to give you a bunch of hickeys,” Kris explains.

Adam blinks.

Kris waits.

“Uhm,” says Adam, “how is that not molesting me?”

“I’m not trying to get into your pants,” says Kris, trying to sound convincingly patient. “I just need you to let me make it look like you’ve been having someone drink alcohol off of you.”

Adam eyes him. “… Katy did something, didn’t she.”

“Tweeted the joys of body shots,” confirms Kris, with a nod. “Take off your shirt.”

Adam hesitates for one second more, then takes off his shirt. Really, really quickly. “Okay,” he says, “yeah, okay.”

“Good, thank you,” says Kris, and goes to kneel between Adam’s legs, which Adam helpfully spreads for him without being asked.

Kris has never done body shots. He doesn’t really see the point, to be honest. It’s not a very efficient way to consume alcohol, he doesn’t think, and besides that, it sounds really sticky. But whatever, his point is, he’s not really sure where one would be leaving hickeys if they’re doing body shots.

“Um,” he says, thinking. “Should I maybe just— Everywhere, do you think?”

“Oh, god, yes, please,” says Adam, staring.

Kris decides to start at Adam’s neck and work down the center of his chest.

In light of that, ending up with Adam on his back on the floor and Kris blowing him is probably the kind of inevitable that Kris should really have seen coming.

“You know,” Adam muses, after, languidly petting at Kris’s head while Kris pants wetly against Adam’s hip and tries to convince himself that he won’t actually die if he doesn’t get his dick out and jack off right this fucking second, “this hardly seems fair.”

Kris is losing the battle with his own libido, so he just makes a vague, questioning noise as he reaches down and pushes the flat of his palm against his erection through his jeans.

Adam’s fingers twist more purposefully in Kris’s hair. “I mean,” he says, and now he’s drawing Kris up his body so he can lick at the corner of Kris’s mouth (and, okay, yes, that feels fantastic, maybe if Adam keeps doing that Kris won’t actually have to jerk off, he’ll just come in his pants or something awesomely humiliating like that), “you’re making all of these sacrifices for my public image. You should get something out of it, too.”

“Huh?” Kris manages. The fact that parting his lips to say it means Adam’s tongue winds up in his mouth is _irrelevant_ , it really is, except for how Kris really kind of likes Adam’s tongue in his mouth. There’s probably a reason it shouldn’t be there. He can’t remember.

“I think I should finger you,” Adam says, seriously, and how he still manages to sound thoughtful while he’s rolling Kris onto his back on Katy’s ridiculous Persian rug is a testament to his acting abilities, pure and simple.

(It’s like that one track on the last soundtrack album, the one that Adam had _insisted_ on recording in a private studio while his cock was down Kris’s throat. That was a testament to his— well, to _something_ , all right.)

“You— Hng.” Flopping an arm up over his eyes, Kris groans as Adam strips him out of his jeans and pushes his legs apart, one hand already slick with lube from the bottle he’d pulled out of — actually Kris has no idea where the bottle was stashed or when Adam retrieved it, which is really kind of sketchy if Kris thinks about it too hard, but that’s entirely beside the point, because Adam is already working a finger into him, sliding nice and easy right up to the knuckle because this is the third time in two days that Adam has contrived for this to happen and Kris is, embarrassingly, really kind of used to being fucked on his boss’s fingers, at this point.

Not that he ever, ever does this to himself on his own time while thinking about Adam doing it to him. Nope. Nuh-uh, absolutely not.

“God,” says Adam, from somewhere around Kris’s knee, fingers slowing, “you make the _best_ fucking noises when I do this.”

“Do not fucking stop,” Kris growls, unnecessarily. (Adam’s not going to stop; practically the whole goal of Adam’s life seems to be getting Kris on his back.) As something occurs to Kris, he peeks out from under his arm and glances down at Adam, now up to a second finger and starting to scissor them apart. “Crap. I forget to do your back. Shit.”

Adam sucks a bruising kiss to the inside of Kris’s thigh. “Hmm?”

“Your back. Katy— She’d probably do shots off of it, too.”

Adam hums again, and now he’s licking at the underside of Kris’s dick, his balls. “Would she?”

“Well, _I_ would,” Kris says, just as Adam curls his fingers and presses _exactly_ right inside him, and Kris drops his head back and decides that thinking can wait until after he comes because he really needs to have a fucking orgasm _right now_.

—

“Jesus,” Katy says admiringly, walking into the living room the next afternoon, where they’re still sprawled completely naked on the wreck that used to be her very nice rug. “What’d you _do_ to Conway, Adam?”

“Many, many filthy, disgusting things,” Adam says, sounding obscenely pleased with himself. Kris squints over at him; the bastard hasn’t even opened his eyes.

“Katy,” Kris begins, in as dignified a voice as he can manage while covered in hickeys and come (and _holy shit is that nailpolish?! what the fuck_ ), with his junk hanging out. He cautiously levers himself into a reasonably upright position, aching and sore in several incriminating places, and leans against the coffee table. “Katy, I really am going to have to protest the binge drinking while you’re not with Adam.”

Katy snorts. “Yeah, you really look like you were protesting.”

Kris glares at her. “Also, no talking on the internet about drinking. And definitely, definitely do not talk about anything on the internet if it combines both sex and drinki— Where in God’s name did you get the hooker top and why do you barely have any hickeys?”

“This old thing?” Katy glances down at the ludicrously tiny excuse for a tube dress she’s wearing. “I bought it yesterday, Tommy thinks it’s hot. Also, I am capable of licking alcohol off a person without maiming them.” She gives Kris an infuriatingly pointed once over. “Unlike some, apparently.”

“There wasn’t actually any drinking here,” Adam contributes helpfully, still without opening his eyes.

“You dog,” approves Katy, golf-clapping in Adam’s direction.

Adam radiates more infuriating smugness.

“I feel so used,” Kris grumbles, scowling. He hauls himself off to the bathroom to take stock of the damage and commandeer a robe.

—

When he joins them in the kitchen for breakfast, Kris is extremely frustrated to discover that he is currently sporting more lovebites than Katy and Adam put together.

—

“Okay,” Kris declares, after Katy announces that she wants to go to Napa and ‘do _all_ the drinking’ while Tommy stands behind her and smirks all the things _he’s_ thinking of doing, to her, in public where there are cameraphones and network wifi, “So basically, I’ve decided that you guys just don’t get to go anywhere without me anymore. Period.”

“But Kris—” Katy tries.

“No,” says Kris. “Where you go, I go, end of discussion.”

Katy pouts.

Kris shoots a look over at Adam. “That goes for you, too, Rockstar.”

“What about me?” asks Tommy.

Kris considers it. “You just don’t go anywhere with anyone. Not even handholding can save Katy’s image from you.”

Tommy shrugs, uninsulted, because everyone in the room already knows he’s not going to listen to Kris at all anyway.

“Hey, Kris?” starts Adam.

“Yes, Adam?” says Kris.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Adam says seriously, “I need you to hold my penis.”

Katy and Tommy snicker in unison. Kris wants to punch himself in the face.

—

Katy’s got a premiere in New York for her latest movie, which — she and Adam inform Kris solemnly — means she needs a _new_ -new dress. And because of Kris’s edict regarding them being supervised, somehow this translates into them dragging him into way more ritzy boutiques than Kris knew existed, and Kris being made to sit in uncomfortable chairs and veto a truly appalling number of inappropriate outfits while Katy’s glare gets more petulant and Adam’s manic grin gets… more manic.

“No,” Kris says, to the backless black pleather hello-I’ll-be-your-dominatrix-this-evening gown (because Katy is merciless, and clearly decided to start the evening off as she means to go on).

“No,” Kris says, about the leopard print dress with the decolletage past Katy’s navel.

“No,” Kris says, almost before Katy’s out of the changing stall in the indecently short strapless, sparkling purple mini dress.

“What do you even— _No_ ,” Kris says, when Adam comes out in the purple mini.

“No,” Kris says, to a skintight transparent number in hot pink lace.

“No,” Kris says, to a violently orange _something_ with a poufed-out, tulle heavy skirt and a bright yellow sash. “Also, ow.”

“I don’t even know where you _found_ that, but no,” Kris says, and pretends he can’t see Katy scowling at him, because that just clashes horribly with the nun’s habit.

Eventually, Kris is forced to concede that there’s nothing obviously wrong with Katy’s latest choice, even if it is suggestively red— “As long as you don’t try to wear any shoes that are spiked, black, or with a heel taller than five inches. And you absolutely cannot wear Adam’s cock-ring bracelet. No, neither can you, Adam.”

They buy the dress, but Adam and Katy both sulk at him until they get home, where Katy goes off to tell Tommy all about how horrible Kris is, and Kris lets Adam blow him just so he’ll stop _looking at him like that_ , damn it, it’s not like Kris is doing anything he’s not getting paid for, here.

Except for the reciprocal blowjob. Kris isn’t getting paid for that.

—

They get to New York without major incident (Kris isn’t counting Adam loudly offering to help Kris join the mile high club, because they bought out the entire first class cabin just so he _wouldn’t_ have to worry about that kind of thing), but Kris has no memories of the premiere itself.

He’s pretty sure they all got blocked out by the knowledge that Katy made out with Lindsay Lohan on a dare at the after party. That, and by the sight that greets him when he innocently enters the bedroom he’s supposed to be sharing with Tommy in the hotel suite the four of them got.

The very _naked_ sight that greets him.

“Oh, for fuck’s— This is _not_ my night.”

Kris tries to ignore what’s going on in his bed, but the squelchy noises and the high-pitched little _ah-ah-ah-aaah_ s coming from Katy and Tommy are impossible to block out, so he abandons the idea of gathering all his stuff. He grabs his toothbrush and a clean pair of underwear, and bolts.

Adam better not mind sharing tonight, or Kris is gonna fire _him_.

—

Adam looks at Kris with something midway between a leer and a pitying expression. “On your bed, really?”

“Yes, really,” Kris says, and glares at the ceiling some more. He’s trying not to think about what he walked in on.

“Well that’s just rude,” Adam says.

“I don’t see why they couldn’t have used his bed. It was _right there_!”

“Yours was closer to the door,” says Adam.

Kris squints at him. “How do you know?”

“Tommy told me.” When Kris keeps giving him the suspicious eyes, Adam smirks and adds, “He said he was ‘gifting me with the knowledge’ for ‘inappropriate defiling action.’”

“Ugh.” Kris pinches the bridge of his nose, hard. He refuses to have another migraine over this. “Just because _he_ is a shameless tart in a secret and probably extremely kinky relationship with his employer—”

“‘Shameless tart’, really?” Adam repeats, leaning over into Kris’s line of sight, still smirking.

Kris lets go of his nose so he can point at Adam sternly. “Do not,” he snaps, “touch me tonight. At all.”

Adam stares at Kris for a moment. He looks like he’s considering pushing, but then he sits back. “Okay,” he says. “No touching, gotcha.”

Kris eyes him suspiciously some more. “That was way too easy.”

“But,” Adam adds—

Kris sighs. “Of course there’s a ‘but’.”

“— I have weed, and if there’s no touching, I’m not sharing.”

Weed does _wonderful_ things for Kris’s migraines, and Adam knows it. Also, Kris doesn’t exactly dislike the touching (which Adam knows, too). Kris is kind of, basically, very fucked.

“God damn it,” he growls, and shucks his briefs, already reaching for Adam. “That’s just dirty pool.”

—

The next morning, there’s a low, insistent ache in Kris’s ass from coming, _twice_ , with four of Adam’s fingers inside him, and he’s still trying to convince himself that he’s not disappointed Adam came before Kris could get his mouth around Adam’s cock. Also, he’s considering forgiving Katy and Tommy, even _before_ they emerge into the suite’s living room looking disgustingly well-fucked and incredibly… schmoop-y.

It’s a _horrible_ day.

“I still don’t understand,” says Kris, clutching his coffee and glaring over it at Katy as she sits down across from him at the little table, next to Adam, “why it had to be _my_ bed.”

“Well we could hardly do it in mine and Adam’s room,” Katy says virtuously. She gives Tommy a smile as he appears at her shoulder with a plate of breakfast and a mug of coffee for her. “That would be rude.”

“Oh, that would be rude. Right.” Kris glares at her some more. “And having sex _on my bed_ was less rude?”

“Of course it was. You weren’t there,” she says, before smiling brightly and hiding behind her cup of coffee.

“Besides,” Tommy puts in, coming back and settling down between Kris and Katy with his own plate of food, “her and Adam’s bed is way bigger than either yours _or_ mine. You guys need all that room just for his legs.”

“Plus I’m a pillow stealer,” Adam admits. He looks thoroughly amused with the entire conversation. “And there _are_ more of them on the giant bed.”

“See, it totally made sense,” says Katy.

“Yeah,” says Kris. “Except _not so much_.”

Adam pats his hand and gets up to refill their coffee cups from the carafe on the room service cart (Kris doesn’t even know who ordered it in the first place; he’s slipping, oh god, this is what comes of unprofessional behavior like this).

Kris groans. “I don’t even know how this is my life any more.”

—

After the premiere, Kris has two weeks of vacation coming, arranged beforehand to allow him to get over any and all debacles which either of his clients might connect to themselves over the course of it. One of the firm’s best PR people is stepping in for him, and there are three more junior reps on standby.

Kris is pretty confident that not even Adam and Katy can do _that_ much damage in two weeks.

—

**from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **cc:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 23 March 2011 13:23  
 **subject:** Well, that’s odd.  
I remember PR specialists being tougher.

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **cc:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 23 March 2011 14:06  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
Yeah. I know, right?

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >, Adam < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 23 March 2011 21:04  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
… It’s been a week and a half.

What did you do?

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 23 March 2011 22:12  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
Nothing you need to concern yourself over, Conway.

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 23 March 2011 22:13  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
I’ve been an angel, Kris, I promise!

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >, Adam < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 24 March 2011 08:27  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
I called Jive.

Really? You guys _actually behaving_ is enough to give one junior publicist a nervous breakdown and have another suddenly reconsider the entire direction of her life? What is _wrong_ with you, I don’t understand this.

I’ll be in by lunch.

(Why _are_ we suddenly behaving, anyway?) 

—

 **from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 24 March 2011 10:13  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
My contract’s up at the end of next month.

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 24 March 2011 10:14  
 **subject:** Re: Well, that’s odd.  
Adam’s contract’s expiring.

—

Katy and Adam continue to behave even after Kris returns to work.

It makes him _uneasy_.

“Are they planning something?” he asks Tommy, dragging him aside in the kitchen, when they’re meant to be refilling the sangria pitcher. (Because, and Kris is _quoting_ here, never say that he isn’t, sangria “has fruit in it, it’s totally a balanced lunch, right, Adam?”)

Tommy raises his eyebrows and gives Kris one of the deliberately vague looks he’s very good at when Katy wants him to be. “Hm?”

Kris resists the urge to shake him. “Adam and Katy. They are _never_ this good. What’s going on? Are they being blackmailed?” he asks, instead.

“What, you mean worse than the studios were blackmailing them _already_?” Tommy says, and laughs sharply.

“Okay, poor choice of words,” Kris admits, and lets go of Tommy’s arm. “Seriously. I know she must have told you — what’s going on? They’re okay, right? I mean, they _are_ okay?”

Tommy smiles. “They’re fixing to be.”

“And what,” Kris narrows his eyes, “does that mean?”

“Aw, Conway,” says Katy, appearing at Tommy’s elbow and smiling at Kris with all her many, many, well-practiced red-carpet watts. “I _knew_ you cared!”

Kris sighs. He passes Katy the pitcher and throws up his hands. “Fine, fine! I get it, I’m not allowed to know. Just please don’t let it involve death or dismemberment. My technique for dealing with bodies is a bit rusty.”

“Noted,” Katy promises. Then, unexpectedly, she leans over and kisses his cheek.

“What—?”

“Everything’s gonna be fine, Conway, you’ll see,” she says, and then, still dazzling up at him, waltzes the sangria back out to Adam on the patio.

Kris stares after her, nonplussed.

Tommy just smirks at him.

—

_text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
Party at my houuuuse!

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
No, seriously, party. At my house. Now!!

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
You want to get here before the booze is gone. No, really, you want to get here before the booze is gone.

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
(this means you, Kris)

—

Kris was not the only one Adam was texting, as he figures out when he pulls up outside Adam and Katy’s house and can see, from the curb, that there are already quite a few people in the house. He can hear the music from the curb, too.

“Okay,” he says, as soon as he finds Adam (sitting in the thankfully-empty enormous tub in the master bathroom; he’s fully clothed), “Why is there a party at your houuuuuse?”

Adam, a bottle of vodka clutched in one hand and a smoking joint in his other, with an unopened bottle of rum between his knees and a bag of wasabi-covered peanuts in his lap, beams up at Kris. “My contract,” he announces grandly, “is _up_. Today.”

“Oh,” says Kris.

Adam keeps beaming.

Then, “ _Oh_ ,” says Kris, and he starts to grin, too. “That’s... well. Congratulations, Adam.”

“This,” Adam says, taking a swig from his vodka, “is my _coming out_ party.”

“I suppose that means I need beer,” Kris remarks, after a minute of watching Adam enjoy his spoils.

“Yes,” says Adam. He nods very seriously. “You do. _Lots_ of beer. And also, pot.”

Kris laughs. “So, I’ll go get some then.”

“Beer in the living room.” Adam waves the hand holding the joint. “Pot here. Come back when you have beer.”

Kris grins once more at Adam, then turns and heads for the kitchen.

—

Kris finds the beer easily.

Of course, he also finds half of Adam’s friends, Adam’s brother, and Katy — who is sitting on Tommy’s lap in the middle of the stairs, studiously engaged in giving him a hickey necklace.

By the time he makes it back to the bathroom, with the better part of a six pack, Adam is gone.

Kris doesn’t find him again for over an hour.

—

Adam is under the dining room table.

Kris only discovers this because Monte suggested he look under the kitchen table, and when Adam wasn’t there, Kris thought maybe he’d better start checking all the tables. (He was reasonably sure the coffee table wasn’t a possibility, but he’d checked under there second, just to be sure.)

“Hi,” he says, crawling under to join Adam. “What are you doing under here?”

“Sitting,” says Adam, giving Kris a very unimpressed look. “Duh.”

“Oh. Right.” Kris clears his throat. “So, uh, I got beer.”

Adam peers narrowly at the bottle Kris holds up, like he’s making sure it is actually beer and not some nefariously non-alcoholic beverage pretending to be beer. After a second, he seems satisfied, and nods. “Good. Now you need pot.” He holds out his hand, where there is a new, freshly lit joint.

“Uh, thanks,” says Kris, taking it hesitantly.

Just as he’s inhaling, Adam blinks, sits up a little straighter, and says, “Also, Kris? You’re fired.”

The smoke goes down the wrong way and Kris sputters, coughing. “ _What_?”

“Fired,” says Adam cheerfully. “You. Fired.”

“I’m... I don’t. _Why_?”

“Because. I don’t want you to work for me anymore!” Adam smiles. He points to the joint Kris is still holding. “Have some more,” he says, starting to back out from under the table. “I’m gonna go tell Katy the good news. Because you’re fired!”

Barely-touched beer and still-smoking joint in his hands, Kris can only stare at Adam as he crawls away.

After a little while, when Adam doesn’t come back and explain what the hell that was about, Kris climbs out from under the table. He passes the joint to the first person who notices it, sets his beer on the table, and leaves.

Strangely, he doesn’t really feel like celebrating anymore.

—

**from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 30 April 2011 22:43  
 **subject:** OH my GOD the MORON  
i am so vrey sorry my fake bf is idiot. have kciked him. comee home?

kates

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 30 April 2011 23:35  
 **subject:** Re: OH my GOD the MORON  
no really HE IS IDIOT.

com hom pls.

—

 **from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 1 May 2011 00:07  
 **subject:** Re: OH my GOD the MORON  
kristpoher you ar makin me ANGERY. coime hom nows.

—

 **from:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **to:** Tommy  < tommyjoeratliff@prettypas.org >  
 **date:** 1 May 2011 00:16  
 **subject:** Your girlfriend needs to be cut off.  
 _(no text)_

—

 **from:** Tommy  < tommyjoeratliff@prettypas.org >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **cc:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **date:** 1 May 2011 00:31  
 **subject:** Re: Your girlfriend needs to be cut off.  
 **attachment:** kitkatpix2397.jpg  
i tried that. she made this face.

took her phone, tho. hope your ok, man.

—

**Lambert-O’Connell; Pulling A Brangelina?**  
In the midst of rumors that Katy O’Connell’s got one in the oven (see inset), a source reports that she spent the weekend meeting with a real estate agent. Seems Ms O’Connell (possible future Mrs Lambert) is in the market for a bigger house. Could she and Lambert be preparing to raise a brood of smiling, shiny-haired tots? Odds are looking up.  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, May 1–7 2011_

—

**from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 1 May 2011 15:52  
 **subject:** Hey, is everything okay?  
Why’d you leave?

—

**from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 3 May 2011 19:21  
 **subject:** Re: Hey, is everything okay?  
You haven’t been answering my calls. Why haven’t you been answering my calls bb?

—

_text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
Katy’s mad at me

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
she says she won’t stop until we make up

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
help me out here, Kris?

—

_text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
no seriously, what’s wrong?

—

**CHEATER, OR NOT?**  
Just days after house-hunting for a child-friendly lovenest for herself and long-time beau Adam Lambert, Katy O’Connell was spotted having a romantic lunch with Cale Mills, co-star in her next flick (set to start filming on location in the Caribbean in July), where the pair got quite cuddly. Does it look like love to you, readers, or just a professional lunch between friends? Take our online poll and let us know what you think!  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, May 8–14 2011_

—

_text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
Katy’s still mad

 _text from Adam, King of Evil (number withheld)_  
please can we talk Kris?

—

_rejected text from Adam, King of Evil (number blocked)_  
they said you quit Jive. did you have to change email adresses?

 _rejected text from Adam, King of Evil (number blocked)_  
is that it?

—

_rejected text from Adam, King of Evil (number blocked)_  
bb?

—

**from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 18 May 2011 11:59  
 **subject:** (no subject)  
… Kris?

—

**It’s OVER!**  
That’s right, readers. The love affair between Katy O’Connell and Adam Lambert is no more! Representatives of the pair announced this weekend that the stars, together since the filming of their flick _Yet Another Cinderella Movie_ , have called it quits, and she’s moved out of their $7 million home in Beverly Hills. The separation was mutual, they say, and they remain friends. But faithful readers will remember that O’Connell has been spotted a few weeks ago, in public with a man not her suddenly-ex. Coincidence, or not?  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, June 5–11 2011_

—

**from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 13 June 2011 8:05  
 **subject:** please read this  
I’d really like a chance to explain.

—

**New Love For O’Connell**  
After weeks of speculation, and on the heels of the official news of the split between Katy O’Connell and Adam Lambert, O’Connell’s camp announced publicly that the star has a new main man in her life. She and her soon-to-be costar Cale Mills (spotted out-and-about together several times last week, see inset) are officially an item.

“They’re very happy,” says a source close to the new couple. “They genuinely like each other. They smile a lot!”  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, June 12–18 2011_

—

**from:** Adam  < teh1stglambert@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < k.allen@jivepr.org >  
 **date:** 18 June 2011 01:25  
 **subject:** I’m sorry

I miss you

—

**Actor Adam Lambert out of the closet!!**  
Contrary to certain rumors in the last six months, Lambert’s brother Neil is _not_ the gay branch of the family tree, after all.

In a statement released Wednesday by his representatives, Lambert shockingly announced that he’s gay. The statement further says that his brother “isn’t, to the best of my knowledge, at all homosexual.” Lambert goes on to explain “I’ve known for a while now, and I feel it’s time to start being honest [about himself]. I’m tired of hiding the truth,” unexpected news which comes just months after a potential pregnancy scare with then-girlfriend Katy O’Connell (during a recent vacation with whom Lambert was seen perusing engagement rings, over Valentine’s Day weekend in Paris), though Lambert now denies ever having any thoughts of proposing to O’Connell, who is currently seeing new (hopefully hetero) guy Cale Mills. This development could explain the lack of public enmity resulting from the Lambert/O’Connell split, and also O’Connell’s speedy acquisition of a new beau.

“I absolutely do not think there are any hard feelings there,” says a source close to O’Connell. “They got along — they still get along. Katy still calls him all the time, but they’re just— they’re obviously not like that, not romantic. Anymore. Adam’s heart goes in a different direction. Katy’s ma— _happy_ for him.”

The question bound to be on everyone’s mind following this startling news?

Just how long _has_ O’Connell known?

STARWEEKLY will keep you informed as the juicy details _come out_!  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, June 19–25 2011_

—

Kris opens his front door, and for a minute all he can do is stare.

“Uhm,” says the man on Kris’s stoop, fidgeting. “Hi?”

“Adam,” says Kris. He blinks several times, but Adam doesn’t disappear. “You’re... at my house.”

“Yes.”

Kris frowns. “On my birthday.”

Adam nods.

“Why are you at my house on my birthday?” asks Kris. “Especially with...” He squints. “Giant blue and red mylar balloons?”

“To see you,” Adam says. He waves the hand holding the ribbons to the balloons. “And it’s your birthday!”

“Which explains the balloons,” Kris says, then pauses. “I think.”

“They match your shirt,” says Adam, his expression earnest.

“Oh.” Kris looks down at himself. “That’s... Actually, they do.”

Adam beams.

Kris sighs and steps aside to let him in.

No point in doing this — whatever ‘this’ is — on his front porch.

—

“I owe you an apology,” Adam says, the minute Kris has the door closed behind them. “I’ve been trying to give it to you for weeks but you’ve been all universally absent and it’s been very hard.”

Kris raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms. “Katy hasn’t forgiven you yet, has she,” he says.

“Not so much. But Kris, I swear, I didn’t mean to upset you,” adds Adam, giving him an earnest look.

“Adam,” says Kris, “the first thing you did after coming out was _fire me_.”

“Yeah, well.” Adam rubs nervously at the back of his neck. “I’m not Katy, okay.”

Kris... doesn’t get it. “I know that,” he says. “I mean, I’ve seen you both topless, I’m pretty sure by now that I could tell the difference.”

“I mean, dating an employee wouldn’t work for me, the way it works for Katy,” says Adam. “And it does work for her, you know it does. Even the part where she’s doing it in secret while engaging in public farces with equally famous actors.”

“She does seem happy,” Kris admits warily.

“Because she gets to take her boyfriend with her everywhere, and he doesn’t get stalked by paps looking for scandal. And it works for Tommy because he gets to spoil her and cater to her whims and gets paid for it. That? Works for them.”

Kris’s heart’s doing something unusual and hyper-athletic against his ribs. “Adam...”

Adam steps closer. “And yeah, I’m sure that at some point they’ll get married and have hoards of questionably-madeup children with too much hair, and we’ll be the kick-ass godfathers teaching those kids how to win friends and influence people—”

Kris snorts. “Why would—”

“But in the meantime they’ve got each other and they’ve got Cale to play with,” Adam concludes. He pauses and clears his throat. “And I’d, well. I’d like to have you.”

Kris waits. Adam just keeps looking at him earnestly. Finally, Kris breaks the silence.

“So you fired me?”

Adam nods.

“How does that even make sense?” Kris demands after a moment.

“I was drunk,” says Adam. “And high. I was maybe not thinking very clearly.”

“Gee, I would never have guessed,” mutters Kris.

“ _But_ ,” Adam goes on, “I knew I didn’t just want you whenever I got you out of your head enough to forget that I was your boss and you didn’t do that kind of thing. I want all of you. Really all of you, as an equal, not an employee. As much of you as I can get, for as long as I can get.”

Kris feels his eyes widen. Then they narrow. “Did you just quote...”

“Because, well, I’m maybe ridiculously in love with you, Kris,” Adam says, his voice soft. He steps up close to Kris, putting a hand on Kris’s neck and pulling him in even closer, tipping his head back so their eyes meet. “And what I want more than anything is for you to love me back.”

“You _moron_ ,” Kris whispers, after a second. “I think I’ve been in love with you since my third week working for you.”

Adam smiles, uncharacteristically tentative. “So, does that mean I _do_ have you?”

“Of course you have me,” says Kris, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “You’ve always had me. Even though you _are_ a gigantic idiot who doesn’t even know how to apologize properly and you _did_ totally just quote your first movie with Katy at me in the middle of professing your undying lo—”

Adam kisses him to shut him up.

Kris most definitely wins.

—

It’s kind of a mystery, how they make it into Kris’s bedroom without breaking any limbs. Kris has a vague sense that they’ll have to replace several of his lamps, and a couple of picture frames, but neither one of them is hurt so he’s got more important things to focus on.

Like what Adam’s doing with his hand.

“Missed you,” says Adam, his fingers wrapped around Kris in his jeans. “You know I missed you, gonna make you come so hard—”

Kris groans, fumbles at Adam’s belt and possibly pulls a muscle trying to shove all clothing down both their hips all at once. “Adam—”

Adam breaks their sloppy kiss to strip their shirts off over their heads. “Never get away,” he swears, stepping back and kicking out of his boots, not taking his eyes away from Kris, “I won’t _ever_ , Kris, fuck I want you, c’mere.”

“Yes, fuck, okay,” says Kris as Adam tips naked backwards onto the bed and pulls Kris with him, slides both hands down to palm Kris’s ass. Kris squirms back against the touch, spreading his legs so they fall either side of Adam’s and tipping his ass back eagerly. “I want, oh, oh god, Adam, want you _in me_ , please—”

For a moment, Adam stills, pads of two fingers pressing firm and delicious up against Kris’s hole. “Kris, you’ve never let me— Are you sure?”

Kris hiccups a laugh, and hides his red face in Adam’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yes, ‘f course I am.”

“Oh thank _god_ ,” breathes Adam, his cock jerking where it’s trapped between their bellies. He says, “ _Finally_ ,” and rolls them over, settling between Kris’s legs.

Kris hooks both arms and legs around Adam and arches up to kiss him.

—

Kris is just starting to doze off, sticky and a little too hot but perfectly content draped over Adam’s chest, when Adam starts and says “ _Oh_ , shit.”

A second later, Kris is very awake, as Adam scrambles out from under him and dives for the pile of their clothes on the floor.

“What,” says Kris, ready to kick some serious ass if Adam’s about to do something to spoil the last several hours for him, “do you think you’re doing.”

“I forgot to— I _know_ it’s here somewhere. I _definitely_ brought— Aha!”

Adam pulls himself back onto the bed, holding out a beat-up little blue papier-mache box with glittery silver guitars on it, and Kris frowns, completely confused.

“Well, go on,” says Adam, using his other hand to wrap Kris’s fingers around the box.

“I don’t get it.”

Adam smiles widely. “Your birthday present!”

“My what?”

“I bought it in Paris,” says Adam. “C’mon, open it, Kris.”

Kris opens it.

He stares.

“Adam.”

“Yeah?” says Adam. He sounds hopeful.

“This is a ring.”

“I know.”

Kris looks up.

Adam is smiling at him, shy and breathtaking. “Don’t. Don’t panic, or anything. This isn’t me asking you to, like, _marry_ me.”

“Oh. Right.” Kris glances back down at the box holding the shiny silver circle. “… but?”

“Kris,” and Kris has to fix his eyes on Adam again, he _has_ to, because he has never heard Adam sound like that, not ever, not even in any of his sappy rom-coms — and Kris has watched them _all_ , okay, to the point where he’s permanently memorized some of the less embarrassing bits — and it sounds _amazing_.

“Y-yeah?”

“Kris, will you wear this ring and let me someday-when-there’s-No-Hate-and-it’s-legal-again ask you to marry me?” Adam licks his lips. “And say yes, when I do?”

“I.” Kris isn’t blinking rapidly because he’s going to cry, he’s not, there’s just dust in his eye. “Uhm. Oh, god, yes. Of course, yes, Adam, _yes_.”

The corners of Adam’s eyes crinkle up. Then he’s snatching the box away, tossing it back on the floor, and gathering Kris up in a tight warm hug that’s all freckles and joy and a lifetime of possible migraines that are all, every single one, going to be totally worth it.

—

**from:** Katy  < princesskaty23@19entertainer.com >  
 **to:** Kris  < kristopher@allenreps.org >  
 **date:** 1 July 2011 00:07  
 **subject:** So I just got off the phone with Adam...  
CONWAY I can’t believe you got psuedo-potentially-promised-to-be-engaged to my ex-fake boyfriend WITHOUT TELLING ME. OH MY GOD THIS IS SO EXCITING. WHAT IS RESTRAINT I SUPER CAN’T EVEN DEAL WITH THIS.

:-D :-D :-D

—

**Gay Star Single No Longer!**  
After more than a week of absence from the public eye, Adam Lambert stepped out on Friday with his new man, publicist Kris Allen, looking happier than we’ve seen him in months. The couple went to the beach, then shopping, then home again after an aborted lunch out in public. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other!

Allen, a PR specialist frequently hired by the firm which manages Lambert, has made no public announcement of his sexuality or his relationship status with Lambert, but the pair were seen kissing in the ocean and in several stores. Sources say that Allen represented Lambert and his ex Katy O’Connell for over a year; the employment was terminated several months ago.

There’s been no official comment from Lambert’s camp, either, but STARWeekly caught up with Lambert’s brother in New York over the weekend.

“They’re sickening,” he said, when asked for comment. “Actually sickening. Like, disgustingly happy. I went out to visit them a few days ago and they’re constantly giving each other the dopiest looks, and I swear they think if they stop touching the world will end. It’s like newlyweds, times about a zillion. Sometimes I just wanted to lock them up somewhere until they could act like normal functioning adults, but I have the horrible feeling that it would work, oh, just about _never_.”

Lambert, it was announced last week, has been tapped to star in the first of a series of live-action adaptations of popular comic-book series _Horus, Private Eye_ opposite Allison Iraheta. The film is slated to begin shooting in the fall, with a release during the 2012 holiday season.  
 _STARWeekly Magazine, July 3–9 2011_

—

**from:** Brad  < youcancallme@cheeks.org >  
 **to:** Kris  < kristopher@allenreps.org >  
 **date:** 3 July 2011 11:10  
 **subject:** I love it when I’m right!  
Everyone I know totes owes me a hundred bucks now. This is the best day ever.

Call me, bitch, the boys and I want deets.

—

_text from ICE:Adam_  
miss you baby!!  <3

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted [@kradamadness on DW](http://kradamadness.dreamwidth.org/88041.html) on November 11, 2011.


End file.
